


The Last shred of Hope

by Greatturnofevents



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Complicated Relationships, Daddy Kink, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Homelessness, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Might add more tags later on, Original Character Death(s), Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Toki is 18 here, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:08:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24540568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greatturnofevents/pseuds/Greatturnofevents
Summary: What if Toki didn't get accepted to join Dethklok, but get accepted by Magnus instead? Could this be the best thing that ever happened to him? Or could it be the worst?
Relationships: Magnus Hammersmith/Original Female Character, Magnus Hammersmith/Toki Wartooth
Comments: 28
Kudos: 33





	1. A Failed Audition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally doing some fanfic writing after not doing that for a decade. Well, here's the first chapter, it's short, but there'll be longer ones in the near future. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Toki blew it.

Blew it at the last minute.

Seeing the incredible performance by the tall, blonde guitarist has caused a distraction, his fingers fumbled and hit the wrong strings. Why does he easily get so distracted? Now he failed the audition that could've changed his life for the better.

So, in the words of the guy with the weird triangular hairdo, it's time for him to go.

Without saying a word, Toki places his worn-out Gibson Flying V in his case and zip it up. He leaves the building, feeling dejected. 

* * *

  
The public bathroom is a good place to get some alone time, especially the one that's not near the touristy areas. All quiet, with dim lights and a low humming coming from water pipes behind the stained, graffiti-filled walls.

Leaving his guitar on the floor, and starting pacing back and forth, Toki had time to think…think about his fuckups, the unfortunate situation he put himself to. It's been around a month and a half living in America. Living on the streets has been unbearable; he’s been sleeping under the drastic weather, eating recently dumped food he found from garbage cans, playing the guitar to apathetic passers-by. The worst of all is avoiding getting assaulted from junkies who either, want to steal his guitar, or just to take their frustrations out on him. He got a massive bruise on his stomach days ago after some teen thought it would be funny to kick him when he was asleep. He reeks of body odour, and his clothes are getting filthier by the day, relying on sinks to wash himself but that doesn't solve how stinky he's been getting.  
  
The audition would have been a one-way ticket to get himself out of the streets, how much longer will he have to deal with this? He stops pacing and looks at the smudged mirror. He didn't realise till now that he got tears running down his face.

_Such a pathetic boy, no wonder your parents look at you with cold disdain._

_Dumb little shit. Why are you still alive?_

_Your only talent is playing the guitar and can't even do that right?_

His sorrowful expression slowly sours, brows furrowing, breath quickens, icy blue eyes staring hatefully at the mirror, and his arms start shaking. Months...no...all his life he's been treated like trash. All that pent-up anger is going to break free.

_The worthless dumpster that should've never been born._

" **FAEN TA DEG**!"

_SMASH!_  
…

The pain didn't come immediately, but Toki instantly cools down and in seconds realises that the mirror is shattered.

"Er…whoops."

He didn't mean to do that; he never felt that anger before, not even when he's getting punished by his parents, getting kicked in the stomach by a kid, or running away from old hairy junkies. He looks down on his shaking right hand, it's not severely injured, but there are small cuts in the knuckle area, tiny dots of blood start to slowly ooze out. He puts the knuckle on his lips to suck the blood and ease the growing pain.

As he turns himself away from the now broken mirror and to the exit, he freezes, his eyes go wide.

A middle-aged man with long, dark, curly hair and a goatee is staring at him; he looks mildly surprised.

Toki lowers his injured hand and is now nervously rubbing it with his other hand.

"Ums…"

His eyes rapidly scan around the bathroom floor to avoid eye contact with the guy, trying to make this less awkward. 

"Sorries. It ams de accidents."

Toki briskly walks past him and to the exit door, he quickly opens the door and runs away from the mess he caused, leaving the staring stranger alone.  
  
A moment of silence.

"Mmph… fucking weird." Magnus mutters to himself.  
  
Magnus turns his head back and noticed a guitar case lying on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> FAEN TA DEG! - FUCK YOU!
> 
> I'm relying on Google Translate as I don't know a lick of Norwegian, so it might not be completely accurate.


	2. Bad Lucks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the reviews guys! That keeps the engine running.
> 
> Enjoy chapter 2.

Toki runs as fast as he could to a nearby bridge. It was starting to get dark, and as usual, he has no home to stay, no family to welcome him, and no soft, warm bed to lay on. He slows his pace, few cars passed by, and not many people around. Holding on the bridge's rails to catch his breath, he hopes that guy doesn't call the police on him.

Toki regains the slow, steady pace of his breathing and looks over the sea. The sea gives such a calming effect, away from the artificial brightness of the city lights that hurts his sensitive pale eyes. Staring at such a vast empty space, even on this day, he feels amazed at how big and blue the ocean is. It was months ago when his only world was at his parents' cottage and the bitter cold black forest surrounding it. He learns that there was more to the world when he ran away to Lillehammer. Despite being a small town, it felt like a different planet. 

He remembers seeing the ocean for the first time when he took the plane to America. He wonders if he could stand on those fluffy clouds and thought the Earth is flat based on how horizontal the ocean is. It was a fantastic experience despite giving him severe motion sickness and ending up throwing up for the rest of the 14+ hour flight. 

The wind is making the evening surprisingly cold despite taking place during summer, but for the Norwegian boy, this shouldn't be a definition of cold; it felt…nice. Coming to his senses, he looks down at his bloody cut knuckles, it doesn't look too bad, it will heal cleanly in no time, not like his back…

He puts his hand to his chest, and his face turns to horror, realization hit him.

He forgot his guitar.

"OH SHITS!"

He reaches his back and looks around on the ground, hoping that it will appear in front of him, but nope, it's definitely at that restroom. 

And he can't remember where that restroom is.

"FAEN! FAEN! WHY AMS I SO STUPIDS!"

Toki grabs his hair in despair and continues to let out loud expletives. That guitar is a present given to him by Runke; it's precious despite its worn-out appearance.  
An elderly passer-by stares at him, but turns his back and quickens his pace to get away from the weirdo. 

Toki continues to mutter curses to himself as he quickly walks out of the bridge and tries to navigate where that damn restroom is. Was it behind that restaurant? Or was it outside the par-- 

The park! It was definitely nearby that park. 

"Hopes nobodies tooks its." Toki says to himself.

As he briskly walks, he notices loud chatting behind him. He turns his head and sees two guys slightly older than him; they are holding bottles of alcohol and walking in his direction.

 _This can'ts be goods_ , Toki thought to himself. Drunk people are the worst, especially during the night.

Toki turns his head back and continues walking, hopefully, they will leave him alone. 

"Hey! Pansy boy! Your mamma gave that fanny pack to you!?" shouts the tall one with an afro.

Or not.

The shorter guy wearing a red cap, shouts "Ye got money in there!?" 

Great, another pair wanting to rob him. What he learned about living on the streets is that there's no use in fighting back if you're just a lone individual standing against a group. They want something valuable from you…and to see the blood trickle down on your face. Toki learns that on the second day in America; a guy tries to grab his guitar case, Toki swings it at him, causing the guy to tumble down the nearby stairs. A buddy of his then gave Toki a black eye and a busted lip, fortunately, Toki managed to run away before things get dire. 

Based on that lesson, Toki runs as fast as he could. The two men start to chase him. Toki pants heavily from fear, at least he can run faster without the case, but those two thugs have a lot of stamina in them. His hat flew off of his head and lands on a puddle, to be forgotten forever. 

One of them threw an empty glass bottle, hitting Toki straight in the back of his head.

"Aah!" Toki yelps in surprise at the instant, sharp, pain, and falls on the hard, cemented ground.

The two men caught up to him and started beating him senselessly, their face twisted in sadistic joy. Kicks and punches rains down on Toki as he covers his face with his arms and clenches his body into a fetal position. They kicked every area in his body with no hint of feeling spent.

All Toki could do is lay there and sob. Begging them to stop will be of no use, they won't listen, he learned of that ever since he could remember.

It lasts two agonizing minutes. They finally stop to catch their breath before the shorter one squat over and rips the fanny pack off of Toki. He zips open the pouch to reveal a passport, toothbrush, a tiny toothpaste tube, and a couple of nickels.

"Fuck! Wasted time chasing this fool. He ain't got nothing." said the shorter guy.

"Of course bruh. Look at this cracker, he been sleeping in back alley dumpsters." 

The short one takes out the passport and examines it.

"He may be a dumpster diver, but we could sell this passport big bucks!" the short guy says as he gets up and puts the passport into the unzipped pocket of his jacket.

"What should we do to this kid?" asks the taller guy.

"Ah, fuck him, he ain't gonna survive in the streets much longer."

The short guy spits at Toki and throws the fanny pack back at him. They both walk away, laughing and high-fiving each other.

Toki lays there for a while, still in the fetal position, shakily breathing. Face covered in tears and snot clogged his nose. As the pain in his body and the shock subsides, he slowly untightens his body. Each small movement causes a jolt of pain all over, but he continues to slowly get up. If he stays in that position for too long, another group of people could find him and wanting to beat him up, or worse.

Toki wipes the foggy spit off his face and grabs the fanny pack, trying to clasp it back on his waist with his shaking hands. He attempts to clasp it for a couple of seconds until he succeeds. He looks inside and notices that they took his passport. Still dazed from the pain, that passport was like a ticket to flying on planes, but he's not thinking of coming back to Norway anytime soon. So, it shouldn't be necessary, right?

The worst feeling comes from the sharp pain in his head, which causes his hand to automatically reach that area. He presses firmly on it for a couple of seconds to relieve the pain. Removing the hand from his head, he sombrely stares at his palm, it's covered in blood. 

"Why does Toki gets all de bads lucks?" he softly asks himself as he lazily wipes the blood on his already dirty pants. If only he had a knife to stab those fuckers.

* * *

Toki limps towards the nearby park, the beating really took a toll on him, and now he's seeing doubles. Not to mention the increasing pounding headache.

That restroom, he should be getting close... 

Feeling weaker by the minute, the lack of food he ate today, and the beatings have caused his body on the verge of giving up moving. He feels a trail of blood on the side of his face, but it's not his concern right now. What's concerning is that now he's going to blackout on the streets where he's at his most vulnerable. He doesn't want to end up like that unconscious, bleeding woman he found inside the alleyway last week with a man on top of her...

Limping in an increasingly slow, unsteady pace, his legs feel like a bog of massive rocks that he's forced to carry. Toki mutters senseless stuff under his breath. His face the look of pure fatigue and skin pale from lack of proper blood flow. He finally stops and leans against a brick wall to support himself, slowly sliding down until his rear touches the cold cement, head slump, indeed a pitiful sight to see.

Toki hears music and raises his head; thirty feet from him, he sees blue and purple lights; it's a bar on an opposite street, with a couple of people outside. They all look like colorful blobs, but he knows that none of them are paying attention to him, just their heads turned towards their chatty friends. Of course, no one's gonna care about some dumb homeless kid on the verge of passing out near a dark alleyway.

He notices one lonely dull-colored blob who is feet away from the other brighter blobs.

That blob seems to be staring right at him. It stays still but eventually, decides to slowly walk towards him.

Toki's first instinct is to get up and run away. Unfortunately, his body refuses to move, and his sight suddenly gets darker and fussier. His upper body falls to the side, and his cheek rests on the rough pavement.

This is it, he's going to be killed, hopefully a quick death.

He finally blacks out before he could clearly see the approaching figure.


	3. Stranger safety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

Good spirits come by rarely, he tries to, but not even an attempt of intoxication during the sunset could help that. Those types of moods have become more infrequent ever since he got kicked off the band. He wants to forget; the more he thinks of them, the more he dwells further in the past. It makes him want to shut down and hurt everything in his way. 

He did everything for those fucks; helped to bring them to the spotlight, and in return, they made him half-blind and threw him away like trash. All he did is stab Nathan, only once, and that fucker deserved it after insulting him. 

"Those fucking bastards," Magnus mutters to himself as he takes a sip from his beer bottle.

Evening out isn't helping anything, it just reminds him of his increasing loneliness. He sees all the folks, arm in arm, laughing thoughtlessly, and face red in intoxication. It makes him fume with self-pity. He has to admit, with Dethklok disowning him, it's like losing the closest friends he had. 

Magnus sights and attempts to lean on the brick wall near the bar, but stops when he realizes he's still holding that case on his back.

He was going to go after the stupid kid, but he was gone in an instant. Guess the guitar is his now, though it's shabby looking, he could still sell it for extra money if he can't find the kid.

As soon as Magnus thought about selling it, he sees someone limping across the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street from him. The figure slowly stops, leans on the wall, and slides down until he lays on the ground like a bag of potatoes. 

_That kid…_ , Magnus thought, eyebrows furrow in worry. He can recognize the figure based on the dirty light-colored shirt, the most distinguishable part he could make out of him from long distance.

He crosses the street to check whether he just witnessed someone's death or not. As he gets a closer look, it becomes apparent that he's been a victim of a violent assault.

"Shit…" Magnus whispers to himself.

* * *

It feels like seconds have passed, there's blackness, save for some strange flashing brightness in the corner of his sight. Toki hears noises, but couldn't make out what it is. He regains some feelings, aching pain in his body, and hard cement on the back of his head. Toki groans weakly at the unwelcome sensation. He hears more noises, this time, he makes out some muffled talking, like what one could hear if their head is submerged in water. The most alarming part is feeling shaking pressure on his left shoulder.

Toki opens his eyes, there is just blurriness, but can still make out that he's facing the navy colored sky. Something darker… is partially covering the atmosphere within his sight.

"Hey, kid, who hurt you?"

Toki jumps slightly, feeling an immediate tinge of fear. 

It's a person within his sight, and he's talking to him. Toki turns his head, breathes in, and coughs, tasting something metallic in his tongue. He's still lying down, which isn't a good position to be in, so he tries to move to the side to raise himself. It feels like a boulder on top of him. Pain growing within him as he moves, especially in the abdominal area. All he wants to do is stand up and run away before that guy attempts to do something horrible to him. Unfortunately, his body lost all the strength, like a sleep paralysis; no way to defend yourself while a mysterious monster looms closer. Gasping for air, Toki tries again to raise his upper body, but this shadowy figure is holding him down. 

"Gos aways." Toki said, attempting to shout but instead, comes out in a broken-voiced, rasping tone. He weakly tries to push that person's arm away. 

"Hold it. It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you."

Not going to hurt him? This has to be a lie. Who wouldn't want to have a chance to hurt Toki? Toki stops struggling and tries to get a more precise look at the guy who may or may not want to gut him alive. Thankfully, the street lights are bright enough for a better view.

He stares at the guy through mismatched lidded eyes and holds a breath for a couple of seconds.

_Thats guys…_ , Toki thought. The one from the restroom that he embarrassed himself in front of.

"Wai...yous…" Toki whispers, talking feels like sandpaper in his throat.

Toki can feel some of the strength coming back, raise a hand to lazily rubs one of his own aching eyes, trying to clear his mind and sight after his blackout.

"Fuck…who did this to you?"

The guy's voice is low but does not sound threatening.

Second by second, his consciousness and strength get better. Toki grunts as he tries to lift himself again, but not to escape this time; the rough ground feels uncomfortable beneath him, and he just wants to sit up. Toki turns over to the side and shakily lifts himself, cringing and gasping in pain. Just doing that feels like a kick in the stomach.   
The stranger holds on to Toki's arm to assist him; he places Toki against the wall. Now sitting up, Toki stares at the front, all the people outside the brightly lit bar are gone; it's just him and that restroom guy.

The restroom guy…

Toki turns his head to focus on the stranger; middle-aged, long dark wavy hair, and a bizarrely long goatee. It reminds Toki of a goat his parents had who had a similar beard, it's long-dead since it got eaten by a lynx, and his parents blamed him for it. One most notable thing is his right eye, the iris and pupil are entirely white, it looks like it's glowing under the near darkness. He's kind of scary looking, yet, the older guy doesn't look like he wants to rob or beat him. 

"What? You going to say anything or just gonna stare at me all doe-eyed?"

Toki blinks and skims his eyes away from him. His mouth moves, but it felt like his voice was forcing itself not to come out.

Magnus squints his eyes, "Speak up, I can't hear you."

Toki coughs under his throat and opens his mouth. 

"I-I's… gots de beatings… ands robbeds." Toki croaks, coughing afterward, he can feel tears threatening to spill out, everything feels like shit.

Magnus cocks an eyebrow at the funny way the kid talks, though that's not the concern. The main concern is there's a young fellow passing out in a public area, a dangerous area that is. While he was kneeling before, Magnus decides to get more comfortable by sitting next to him, like an old friend.

"That's unfortunate, you have to be careful here, there are lunatics in every corner," Magnus said as he softly holds on to Toki's right shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze.

Hearing that and the feeling of pleasant warmth on his shoulder made Toki feel less tense, the older man is actually being…caring.

"Ja…, buts ams hards to avoidings thems… gots no wheres to hides."

Magnus grabs a beer bottle that he left it upright on the ground centimeters away and takes a swig from it.

"You should get yourself a weapon, like a knife, it will scurry them away. Most of them are cowards, they target those weaker than them."

Toki nods weakly, slouching slightly. As Toki takes another glance at him, he notices a thick leather strap on him.

Behind the older guy, he can see a guitar-shaped case. Toki's eyes widen, and sits up, mouth agape.

"Guitars!" Toki blurts out.

Magnus raises his eyebrows slightly until he sees who the homeless boy is directly staring at.

"Oh, this…, didn't want to leave it there."

"Cans I haves backs?" Toki begs, arms outstretching towards the stranger as he is eager to clutch the instrument.

Magnus removes the strap from his bare chest and hands the guitar case to Toki. For the first time since he petted a kitty days ago, Toki smiles. He readily takes the guitar case off of him and tightly hugs it like a child hugging his pet dog after not finding him for days.

"Try not to be careless next time, these things cost a fortune." 

"I'lls be carefuls, thanks," Toki said as he unzips the case, the guitar inside stills looks the same; rough and dilapidated. But, for Toki, it still looks as beautiful and shiny as ever. He removes the guitar's head out of the case and touches the frets, gliding his fingers over it, strings are at least still in fine condition.

"So…I see you enjoy playing guitar?"

Head perches up at the question, this guy is taking his time chatting to some dumb homeless bum. No one in this city has started conversations with him yet. Just either few small compliments from his guitar playing, or mostly hurled insults.

"Ja! Is playeds its since thoiteens, its helps passedes de times ands ams makes mes feels happies whens I' ms sads," Toki addresses.

Magnus smirks, he aims his sights at the direction of the bar he was inside half an hour ago.

"I was also that age when I first picked up a guitar, same reasoning as you. Once you own a guitar, it becomes a part of you, you see?"

Magnus takes a sip of his beer, wetting his dry throat.

"It's a shame some people don't appreciate it, my parents… one of those people."

Toki glumly looks down at his guitar.

"Pearents…" Toki said lowly and quietly, more to himself instead of that guy.

Magnus takes another sip but realizes that the bottle is already empty. He stares at the emerald bottle for a little while before carelessly throwing it away, landing and rolling on the curb.

"Yep…parents."

Magnus focuses his sight back to Toki. The kid has a particular look to him, so young and fresh despite living on the streets for God knows how long. From the night, he can make out pale blue eyes that are hard to find here, a hairdo that looks like an inexperienced mother cut it, the crooked frown, and smelling like a typical hobo. Yet, the kid is fine-looking…

Magnus shuts his eyes, focus away from the boy, and rubs his face with his right palm. The buzz of alcohol getting to him, but not close to drunkenness. 

"Say, kid, aren't your parents worried about you here on the streets?" Magnus asks.

Parents…hearing that word again gives Toki unwanted flashbacks. The term 'worried' would be the last thing that his parents would feel towards him, more like silent anger that their little punching bag is gone.

"Is rans away, starts de new lives," Toki mutters, facing down, concealing his face from the stranger with his limp, greasy hair. 

Magnus frowns at that revelation. _A runaway, one of those types_ , Magnus thought, reminding him of his own experience running away. 

A couple in pleasant attire walks pass them; they both glance in distaste at the two guys sitting down before apathetically look away. Magnus sneers at them as they walk away at a slightly quicker pace. Magnus looks back at Toki, who continues looking down.

"So…what was the freak-out you had earlier?"

Toki's lips tighten in response. This question seems more discomforting than the one before, is he really going to explain to this stranger about what happened earlier today? Would the man even understand his troubles? 

Magnus glances at him, noticing his quietness.

"Sorry if it's personal. It's okay to spill things out for me, I won't judge. Whatever you did, I might have done worse." Magnus notices the boy fidgeting with his hands, one hand pulling the skin of the other a bit too roughly. "But if not, then that's okay too."

Toki wishes he could forget what happened, the big fuck up. He could imagine those guys at the audition; right after he left the building, they started laughing till saliva flies out of their mouths over how shit his guitar playing is. Toki stops fidgeting and grips the case at the thought of it. But this man…he says he won't judge…

Toki raises his head, though still not looking at the other, "Is failed de auditions…Is playeds okays, untils de lasts minutes."

The audition… Magnus' head perks at that word, "Which audition was it?" He asks.

"Deads, Deaths…" Toki cringe, trying to remember, "...Dethkloks…"

…Dethklok…

Magnus' eyes narrow at the word.

Fucking Dethklok.

So, they're going to replace him…

This revelation makes his face warm, and insides ache. Of course, those fucking idiots would replace him, but they will never find a better player than him, these bastards are going to fail without him, oh they will…

Toki glance at the older man, wondering why he went quiet. He notices the change in mood from the guy's face. 

After a couple of seconds mentally seething of that name, Magnus sights, and brush his wavy locks off his face.

"Honestly, kid, you didn't have to smash the mirror over that fucking band, it's not worth it." Magnus places a reassuring hand on Toki's shoulder, "You can try again next time, there are better bands out there. How many auditions did you do?"

Mild surprise form in Toki's face.

"Thats ams mines foists ones'"

Magnus chuckles, removing his hand off Toki's shoulder.

"First one? Then there's nothing to be upset about it? People fail auditions all the time, especially their first one. You just gotta keep trying. Besides…Dethklok isn't a good band anyway, these guys can't fucking play right witho…, I mean, they're fucking mediocre nobodies..."

Magnus feels some bit of relief that Toki barely knows the band when he sees him smiling weakly. 

Hearing the older man say that feels…encouraging, it lifts out that painful pressure in Toki's heart. 

"Yous rights, Is don'ts needs to breaks mirrors over its; Is cans keeps tryings," Toki said.

It's nice after having a horrible day that there's someone to talk to, someone who doesn't view him with slight pity or a waste of space, it almost feels like…having a friend.

Then Toki realizes something, _ifs yous makes a friends, they needs to knows yous names_.

"Er… mines names ams Toki." 

A small fatherly smile form in Magnus.

"I'm Magnus."

Magnus reaches his right hand out. Toki freeze for a sec, until he realizes this gesture is called a handshake, he saw them on TV and from people in the distance. Toki slowly raises his hand, and Magnus grabs it; it feels rough, firm, but warm. They both smile at each other, slowly shaking their hands before letting go.

There was a short silence for a while, Toki tries to keep his hands busy by gliding his fingers on the frets, Magnus is the more relaxed type, leaning against the wall, holding his hands together on his raised right knee, and gazing at the lights on the door of a bar.

"It's a shame seeing young folks like you sleeping on the streets. Don't you have any friends or other relatives you can stay with?" asks Magnus.

Hearing that question makes Toki realize how lonely he is.

"Nos…gots no ones." Toki said softly, his face vacant.

Magnus' lips tighten in sympathy. He then realizes that kid's accent is similar to that arrogant blond fuck. So, he asks a less depressing question.

"Are you Swedish?"

Toki stops stroking the frets. 

"Nopes, ams froms Norways."

Magnus made a small noise at the back of his throat.

"That's far away, and you come here by yourself? With no family or a place? That's a tough decision you made there."

Toki nods sadly, continuing looking at the guitar.

"Is dreams of startings de new lives. Buts ams startings to regrets its, sleepings in benches hurts mines backs, ands everybodies ams jerks heres." Toki said, voice-cracking at the end.

Magnus gave the kid a look of pity. The boy is entirely alone, and he's not going to survive the streets for longer, that's for sure; based on the dry blood on his forehead and all the forming bruises...

He gives the boy another eyeful, the kid looks non-threatening; doesn't look like the type to go into drug-fuelled knife fights or rob someone's home.

It would be nice to have a company. 

"You want to stay at my place…until you're back on your feet?"

It takes a while for Toki to process what Magnus said. Did the person, who he only met today, asks him to stay at his place? 

"Y-Yous really wants me to?" Toki asks.

He stares at Magnus; pale eyes shine brightly with hope but bewilderment.

"Well, er…yeah. Can't leave you here at this state. Helping little guitar players is my job so…."

Toki smiles brightly, through all that bad luck he had today, that all been paid off thanks to the kindness of this stranger. He could hug Magnus if his body wasn't still in pain, and his guitar wasn't lying on his lap.

"Wowee! Thanks!" Toki squeals, coughing slightly afterward.

Magnus smiles slightly. A bit surprised that the kid didn't even look the least bit suspicious of the offer. If it would be any other ordinary guy, they would second guess at the idea of sharing a place with a stranger, especially an ill-natured looking bastard like Magnus. _This kid seems too trusting..._

"Well…"

Magnus slowly stands up. Toki just looks up, like a puppy eyeing his owner after they gave him his favorite treats. The sickly-sweet stare makes Magnus slightly uncomfortable, not used to having people look at him that way.

"Shall we get going? It's getting dark…"

"Er… yeahs."

Toki zips up the case and clumsily gets up while holding the case with his left arm, wincing in pain. He steadies himself on the wall behind him, so he doesn't fall over, Magnus steps over and grabs him in the arm. 

"I got yer kid."

Raising his knees slowly and standing upright, Magnus slowly let go of his arm. Toki puts the straps on and howls the guitar case on his back, feeling sharp pain behind him doing so, but ignores it.

"C'mon, don't want to stick around here any longer, there are weirdos out here. It's only a short walk."

Toki smiles shyly.

"Thanks, Magnus."


	4. The apartment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toki and Magnus arrive at the apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

Toki tries to avoid walking in the streets at night; nights, in general, is what Toki wishes to stay away from. Throughout his life, he fears the night, there was nothing but pain, loneliness, and nightmares. He remembers the nights where he would sometimes be chained in the wall, or going to bed with fresh scars on his back, with no one comforting him other than his little clown doll. Even at Lillehammer, when he was stuck within himself sleeping alone at night in the black metal records shop, he feels impending dread, loneliness, and ongoing nightmares. Somehow, the night isn't so bad when having someone talk to you and walk with you, even if he's a stranger.

"Hows longs tils we arriveds ats yours homes?" Asks Toki, clutching the straps of his old case.

The young Nordic and the older stranger walk side by side towards the broad street, few people walk past them, but as usual, paying them no mind. 

"Shouldn't be too long, around six blocks, you fine walking at that distance?"

The feeling of pain in his back, head, and stomach still lingers, but he's strong enough to keep moving. The discomfort didn't stop him from all the forced labor that he had to endure in Norway, so he won’t stop now.

"Ja. Is thinks Is cans makes its."

An itch grows on top of his scalp, Toki attempts to scratch the area, feeling some slight crustiness. He looks at his index finger; blood, even gotten the dry bits underneath his fingernail. Magnus takes notice of this and takes something out of his back pocket.

"Here," Magnus stops and gives Toki a clean folded napkin, "Got blood on your face."

Toki looks at the white piece and timidly takes it, wiping it on his forehead, and eyebrows.

"Is its gones?" asks Toki, smiling a bit. Wet stains already gone but what remains are some dry, crusted leftovers that need more than a napkin to get rid of.

"Almost, but can wash the rest off later," Magnus replies. 

"Alrights, de bloods makings mines heads all itchies." Toki said, dabbing the napkin at the top of his head, only to cringe at the sharp pain. "Theys threws de bottles ats mes, it's hurtings bads."

"Fucking bastards. You're handling well so far. Just don't touch it, I'll see how bad it looks when we arrive."

Toki focus on the ground as he walks, still grasping at the bloody napkin, mentally debating whether or not to ask the older man if he wants it back. He decides to place it inside his fannypack.

* * *

  
The rest of the walk has been silent, apart from Magnus muttering about needing to buy new packs of cigarettes tomorrow. Finally, they arrived at their destination. 

"Well, …we're here."

It's just like any other low-income building in this city. A building mostly constructed with red bricks sprayed with colorful crude graffiti and dozens of artlessly designed windows; some were plain of personality while others are decorated with plants and flowers.

They both climb the dull, cement stairs, Toki notices the large wooden door in front has a couple of holes the size of cherries decorated on it. The light above them is flickering and has tiny moths flying around it. Magnus takes a key out of his pocket jacket, insert it to the keyhole; seconds of clicking noises later, and the door opens with a creak. Magnus enters and lets the door open for Toki, the boy follows through. It was as gloomy inside as it was outside; broken walls covered in graffiti, more flickering lights. Despite not being cold, Toki shivers for some reason.

"Yeah, it's not the jolliest place around, but it's home," said Magnus with an almost jovial tone. "Let's take the elevator."

They walk towards the elevator nearby, Magnus presses the button, making a loud clicking noise. They both silently stand there for a couple of seconds, Toki look down on the floor, focusing on a mysterious green stain next to his feet.

'Ding'

The door opens, revealing a girl with dark hair in loosely braided pigtails and wearing an oversized plaid jacket. Her hands are in her pockets as if she feels cold, and hurriedly walks out there. She glares slightly at Magnus and gives Toki an eerie look for a second, before scurrying off. 

After she left the elevator, Magnus enters, Toki follows through closely, the door makes a loud grating sound when it closes. Magnus presses the number five button, the second top floor. 

It was mostly silent inside the elevator, other than the loud creaking noise it makes as it escalates. Toki feels a slight anxious feeling in his stomach at the idea that the lift may not handle the weight and may drop any moment now. To get rid of this feeling, Toki feeds his curiosity in this unfamiliar but scary transport. Like the inside of the entrance, the elevator wall was entirely covered in graffiti, some with words that Toki couldn't make out of because of the bizarre font, while others are just crude writings or basic drawing of genitals. 

Magnus just stands where he is, gazing at the door most of the time but some occasional glances at the distracted boy.

After a slow pace of going up to several floors, the elevator comes to a sudden halt, Toki nearly gasp at how the elevator shakes almost exceedingly when it stops. 

Door slides open, making that same loud noise, Magnus swiftly walks out. As Toki also walks out, he trips slightly from the slight gap underneath but manages to avoid falling over. Thankfully his new friend had his back turned to him and didn't notice his stupid clumsiness. 

As they walk towards the equally depilated hall, they finally arrived at Magnus' place, the last one on the hall, number thirteen.

"Good thing it's empty around here, there' are usually one or bastards passed out on the floor," said Magnus as he takes another key out of his pocket jacket.

He opens the door and let Toki goes first, smiling slightly. After over a month of sleeping on the streets, he finally has a place to crash. He slowly walks in, Magnus follows through while taking one suspicious quick look at the halls, before abruptly closing the door, and locking it.

* * *

  
The place looks exactly like what you expect this building to have; poorly lit, ripped navy curtain covers the window. The cramped living room consists of a dull yellow couch, with an old recliner of identical color next to it. In front of it is a dull brown cabinet with a small decade-old TV mounted on top. The room has an odor of cigarettes and mold. Toki, who never experienced seeing other people's homes in his life except of his parents, who instead slept in Runke's shop instead of his house, finds this place exceptional.

"Wowee! It ams nice here," Toki gushes.

Magnus doesn't know if the kid is being sarcastic or nice. 

"Er…thanks? It's not a 5-star resort, but comfortable enough."

 _Ams this is whats de Americans lives likes?_ Toki thought to himself. "Is likes how theres ams lemons on de walls," said Toki, staring merrily at the cigarette smoke-stained wall with yellow marquise shape patterns on it.

Magnus sights at the boy's overenthusiasm. He walks over and taps Toki on the shoulder, Toki takes his eyes off the cracked, peeling wall and aims at Magnus. He can see him more apparent now; his left eye is so creepy.

"Would you like some water? Maybe some food? I got a sandwich in the fridge." 

The dryness in his throat feels evident now. With how the whole afternoon went, Toki has no appetite.

"Justs waters. Ams nots hungries, hads a burgers befores de auditions, its enoffs."

"Suit yourself."

While Magnus has gone to the kitchen, Toki slowly walks to the middle of the living room, eyes scanning around in curiosity. He feels something on the tip of his foot and looks down; an empty, clear bottle. A couple more of them sprayed on the floor, as well as cans and old clothes. He takes the guitar case off his back, feeling relief to get the heaviness off of him and gently places it on the ashy blue carpet. Magnus comes back with a small glass of water. 

"Thanks," Toki said quietly as he takes the glass. The water is not very cold and tastes kind of icky compared to what he's generally used to, but still helps get rid of that cracking feeling in his throat.

"This is where you'll be sleeping," Magnus said, pointing at the couch. "You can watch the tv, but keep the noise low, I'm going to sleep afterward. That recliner…you do not sit on it, only I get to use it."

"Okays." Toki's only response, wondering if there'll be cartoons available to watch.

Magnus breathes in and notices how foul the kid's odor is, like a locker room in high school full of sweaty, testosterone-filled, overtrained football players.

"When was the last time you showered?" Magnus asks, his perpetual sneer more noticeable.

It is that question that Toki stops and takes a moment to sniff, he learns to ignore it, but when he doesn't, it even makes himself sick. No wonder people avoid him.

"Er… two days a thinks, nevers takes de showers, Is relieds ons public bathrooms taps."

Magnus lets out a sigh, gazing down, and scratching the side of his chin slightly.

"Well, I recommend you take a shower now, I don't want you to stink up the place, it smells bad enough here already," said Magnus, trying hard not to make a face. 

Toki blushes; he really hates being reminded of how dirty he got ever since he moved to America.

"Also, you got extra clothes?"

Toki's head perks up.

"Ye...yes. I gots de backups"

Toki squats down to unzips the case and raises the guitar out slightly, reaching something underneath it, he grabs two pieces of clothing and pulls it out.

The boy is holding… a grey underwear and a dark grey shirt, both equally dirty, stinky, and have small holes in it.

"That's all you brought when you came here?" Magnus asks, raising one eyebrow.

"Ams suppose, didn'ts knows hows much to brings, don'ts wants to carries lots." Toki glumly places the dirty clothes back inside. "Thoughts Is coulds buys clothes heres, buts couldn'ts affords its. Is needs to spends on de foods ands de transports insteads."

Magnus glance at him judgementally, before closing his eyes and shaking his head. "Foolish of you, eh? First, forgetting your guitar…"

Toki just stares vacantly.

"Well…" Magnus said with a sigh, closing his eyes and scratching the back of his head, he walks towards his bedroom.

"It's okay...I'll find something for you kid, in the meantime, hurry up and take a shower."

With Magnus entirely out of his site, Toki smiles to himself. Through all that judgemental glares, the random beatings, and shivering under the rain, a stranger suddenly gives him a helping hand.

His life might suddenly improve from there…

* * *

  
Rummaging through the not-so-full closet, finding clothes that would fit him is a hassle due to their height difference. He never likes the idea of sharing clothes, but this is an exception.

Magnus takes out a shirt and stares at it, he doesn't remember ever using this shirt. Suddenly it hits him; he got a couple of clothes from his former bandmates he had stolen after being kicked out of the band. The main intention was to aggravate them further, but now he was stuck with these clothes, one part of was either throwing them in the garbage, the other part was to keep them as a momentum. Magnus smirks to himself, stealing clothes was a good idea after all.

* * *

  
The bathroom is quite clean, if a bit constricted. After taking a nice, warm shower, it feels refreshing to having to wear new clothes for once. Magnus gave him a blue shirt and grey pajama pants. The pants were a bit too small, feeling tight in certain areas, but that will do.

Coming out of the bathroom with new clothes, and blood and other filth wholly removed from his body, Toki would've felt like a new person. However, a shower isn't going to totally subsidize the pain from the severe beating earlier today.

"How's your head?" Magnus said, smiling slightly, looking back at Toki and sitting on the sofa.

"Is thinks de bloods ams gones, stills hurtings."

"Come here, let me check."

Toki walks over and sits on the sofa next to Magnus. The older man places his hand at the back of Toki's head and brings him close so that Magnus can have a look at the scalp. He softly moves the towel-dried hair strands out of the way to see the cut. 

It's a small one; shallow and size of a nickel. It's still bleeding a tiny bit. Other than that, it's a minor injury, though the boy got some dandruff problem.

"Nothing serious here, it's small and will heal by itself, just don't pick at it."

Magnus let go of Toki and gets off the couch. 

"Well, I would love to stay and chat, but I need some sleep. The couch is all yours."

As Magnus walks towards the bedroom, Toki smiles and places his legs on the couch and lay on his side. The couch creaks loudly, and it smells kind of musty, there were a few tears here and there, and it sank in the middle. It's wide enough to fit two people, so it's a comfortable size.

"Som en fluffy sky," Toki whispers to himself.

He grabs a large striped blanket lying on the floor and covers himself up to his neck, nearly wrapping himself into a burrito. 

Magnus looks back and sees that Toki has already made himself comfortable, he's got a childlike quality in him, it's kind of…amusing.

"Feeling better now?" Magnus asks.

"Ja! Ways betters," Toki said happily, clutching the soft pillow like a stuffed animal.

"Well, I hope the pain settles by tomorrow. If you need anything…wait till morning; I got work at seven," said Magnus, opening the bedroom.

"Goodnights Magnus," said Toki, voice higher-pitched than usual.

Magnus made a small "Mmmph" before walking inside his bedroom.

"Ah, Magnus waits!" 

Magnus turns around, "What?"

"Thanks agains!" 

Magnus smiles.

"You're welcome."


	5. Cartoons and guitars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toki finds something to do while Magnus is out working.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being patient.
> 
> Enjoy.

Cracked, flaky ceiling; the first thing he sees.

No dried-out trees, polluted sky, or wet, grime ridden bricks as a reminder of his circumstances, it almost feels surreal. Toki continues to lay in bed, looking up at the strangely interesting but structurally concerning ceiling. 

The pleasant sleep has energized him, but the soreness still engulfs his body. Toki glances at the television in front of him. It would be nice to finally go back to watching TV ever since he left Runke's place, but should probably wait for Magnus to wake up. The room is still ill-lit, except for the natural light seeping through the covered window. Toki sighs and rubs his eyes to get rid of the sleepies and slowly sits up. Every slight movement sends prickles of pain through his long-suffering body; it yearns him to lay back to the warm, soft covers. 

But enough with resting. He steadily stands up, quietly grunting doing so, and walks over to the window to pull out the curtains; the light immediately assaults his sensitive eyes; he squints tightly and turns his head abruptly from the blazing brightness.

Toki slowly opens his eyes, blinking quickly in trying to adjust from the natural light. The window is already opened, his hands rests on the grimy sill. He peeks his head out a bit to get a view of the city; it's not as glamorous as the tourist brochures make it out to be. 

Grey…; the sky, the pigeons flying past, even the buildings in front of him. Not something that bothers Toki, grey is metal anyway. He aims his focus on the smokes coming out on some of those tall tube structures further away; there was nothing like that back at home. 

Down below, people brushing past each other like hurried ants and cars blowing their horns while rushing to their destinations. Toki leans towards the window, resting his cheek on his palm while the other arm hangs out to feel the cool air. To pass some time, he watches the people down below and guess what horrible misdeeds they've done in the past; The elderly woman in white probably fed her husband to a shed filled with pigs 20 years ago. The guy on the bicycle could have ran over ten children with his two-wheeler, and the fat guy with a bright red afro probably sells red chili flavored cotton can—

' _Creak_ '

Toki gets out of his little weird fantasies, turning around to the squeaking sound of a door.

There he is, the friendly older man who saved him. His grim face bore the expression of lethargy. Thick, dark hair dishevelled with some strands hanging over his haggard face. He appears to be wearing a tattered navy-blue bathrobe.

Toki smiles politely, but it's barely noticed to Magnus when the youngster is in front of the glaring brightness of the irksome outside world.

"Moinings, Magnus!"

Magnus expression didn't change other than the corner of his mouth raising just a tiny amount and back to frowning in a millisecond. He only made a short sound in response and trudges towards the bathroom, closing the door.

Toki frowns, must not be a morning person.

While waiting for Magnus to come out, he goes back to looking out of the window. His eyes half-lidded in boredom from viewing the nondescript buildings. A clattering noise rattles within the bathroom, similar to what he hears in public restroom whenever he turns the tap on.

As he leans backward while holding the window sill, he spots a hanging calendar next to the window. It has a picture of a half-naked woman lying seductively on a silky blood-red bed. He stares at the woman for a little while; she's pale and thin, but her bosoms were huge and are barely covered by the small black laced bra. Looking at her makes Toki feel funny, but that funny feeling is also making him uncomfortable, so he lowers his sights at the chart below.

His parents never followed the days the same way as the average folk. Toki learned the typical year that everybody followed while he was in Lillehammer. Seven days is a week, four weeks is around a month, twelve months make a year. To compare how it connects the years in his family's way, he should be born in 1980. It was very confusing at first, like how everything else was, but he adjusted quickly. 

The circled ones mean the days that have passed, and the non-circled ones are not. So today is 3rd of August, and the year is 1998.

Isn't his birthday somewhere in Augu--

"Had a good sleep?"

Toki jumps slightly, turning his head sharply. Having been so preoccupied with what age he is now, he didn't hear him coming out. His face still looks tired, but less scrunched up than before.

"Is...is slepts greats," Toki said. 

"Good…good," he mutters unenthusiastically, rubbing his blind eye with his knuckle. He winces slightly, it still hurts after two weeks from that incident, but at least the bruises have faded to the point that no one, including the boy, noticed it.

"How's abouts youse?" Toki asks.

Magnus slightly lowers his hand from his face to glance at Toki quizzically. 

"I forgot what a proper good sleep feels like," Magnus said, brushing the annoying strands out of his face as he walks towards Toki.

Magnus gives a quick look outside, paying attention to the cloudy sky, "Weather doesn't look so good." 

"Ams goings to rains." Toki explains. He watches as Magnus looks around the floor, kicking away cans, picking up any discarded clothes, making a face, then dropping them back down.

"I know that, at least it'll be cooler today, last week has been unbearable." 

He picks up a black sweater and gives it a sniff. He nods slightly to himself.

"Hey Magnus, justs a questions?" Toki asks. 

Magnus glares back at the boy, "What is it?"

"De smokes, whats ams theres fores?" said Toki, pointing at the long tubes far from the distance outside.

Magnus looks at him, quizzically, "What?"

He gazes at where Toki was staring. 

“Oh that?” He said in a strangely whimsical matter "That's from some power plant, don't have them at your place?" 

"Poweeerrs plannnts…" Toki drawls, as he gazes outside, "Ams that's whys mines eyes gets so irritateds?"

"Most likely," Magnus said listlessly, mentally hoping that the majority of his interactions with the kid isn't going to be some name an object game.

Toki turns to look at Magnus in confusion, "Why ams calleds powers plants if its ams nots evens de plants?"

Magnus closes his eyes displeasure; he's used to those quiet mornings. Anyone knowing Magnus should keep out of his way after his slumber. 

"Listen, I would love to stay and chat, but I'm in a hurry, I got to get dressed."

He walks briskly back to his bedroom and shuts the door, leaving Toki alone again. _Dids Is annoys hims toos much?_ he thought.

Immediately losing interest in this power plant thing. Toki walks over to the television and turns it on; a middle-aged man in a suit standing front of a map of America, talking about the weather. As expected, today will be cloudy with a chance of rain in the afternoon. 

He heads over to the recliner and sits at the edge of it to rest his sore legs. Toki wonders how they manage to predict the weather; is the man in the suit a fortune-teller? 

After the weather forecast is over, they focus on a story of some prodigy kid who builds himself a robot. The little round robot responds when someone calls his name and picks stuff up when someone drops it on the floor. It sure would be cool to have your very own rob--.

"I thought I told you not to sit there!"

Toki jumps out of the recliner at lightning speed; he comes to face Magnus, glowering at him. 

Shit, he blew it. 

Toki automatically raises his hands in front of him in defense.

"Sorries! D-don't kicks me out!" Toki frets quickly, panic etched on his face. 

Magnus' face turns into a mixture of a slight scowl and confusion.

Toki continues to let out a string of apologies, Magnus rolls his eyes. Is he going to hear more of these apologies in the future?

"It's okay. Just…don't do that anymore, my fucking chair, remember?" said Magnus, in a much calmer tone this time.

Toki nods quickly, backing away from the recliner as if it's ridden with a plague. 

"Well… I'm heading out, if you want breakfast, there's cereal in the kitchen, but don't take too much, and don’t use the stove."

Magnus straightens his loose black sweater and walks towards the entrance door.

"I trust that you don't go snooping inside my bedroom, you got that?"

"Ja, gots its."

"And flush the toilet after you're done, I've known too many shits for brains that don't fucking bother," said Magnus, thinking of Murderface.

"Wheres ams you goings?" asks Toki, shoulders sagging a bit in a more relaxed posture.

"To work silly, got to pay the bills, and all that crap."

"Oh… okays"

Magnus unlocks the door and opens it, he picks up a dark green umbrella on the floor nearby. He gives one last suspicious look at Toki, squinting his blind eye.

"Now, I'm nice enough to give you a place to stay, so I don't expect you to rob shit and ran off, because if you do, I will find you," his tone almost threatening.

Toki’s brows knitted and lips tightened at the thought.

"Is promises, is wonts steals anythings froms yous," explains Toki.

Magnus' face softens but still has some traces of doubt in his wrinkled face.

"Good…well, I'll be back at around four. Remember, the bedroom is off-limits, goodbye."

Magnus head outside, closing the door loudly, leaving Toki alone in this unfamiliar place.

Toki frowns and sighs. He would hope he could hang out with Magnus for the rest of the morning, but oh well, he gets the whole apartment for himself.

* * *

The TV has bought a layer of liveliness in this quiet place, particularly channels with wacky voices and sound effects. America does provide a good amount of endless entertainment, and obviously, it's cartoons that Toki is yearning for. There's something about these bizarre moving pictures that caught Toki's attention compared to shows that are more suitable for his age. The first cartoon involves a strange dog with a thick tail called Rocko. Only managing to catch near the end of the show, it's pretty humorous and filled with jokes that would go through kids' heads. 

The one after is about a blue-skinned guy called Captain Planet. It wasn't as funny as the previous cartoon, and some topics are too confusing to him; something about aids and the guy getting ostracized because of it.

Toki feels his stomach vibrating. There's no excuse in skipping meals since Magnus permits him to eat his food. He hops out of the couch, cringing in pain doing so, to get whatever's available from the kitchen. The room is cramped like the rest of the place; a mysterious, foul odor lingers in there, but Toki's used to it given that he used to search around dumpsters for freshly thrown out fast food scraps. 

On the counter, there where crusty plates stacked on top of each other near the sink, rotten vegetables and crumps on the floor, a couple of chicken soup cans, and a slightly torn box of Kellogg's. Cockroaches are scurrying the place as if it's a buffet party for them. Nothing out of the ordinary for Toki, just as long as there's something fresh available. 

He opens the fridge, and the inside isn't something to brag about; it's almost empty save for some beers and water bottles, a plate of sandwich that's starting to get green spots on it, uncovered lettuce and carrot, a dead shrivelled up lizard, a piece of blackening banana, and a carton of milk. Toki's nose wrinkled in displeasure, Runke's fridge was so much better.

Just have to make do, he grabs the milk carton and places it on the dusty counter. He searches for a bowl and found a grey one on the web filled top pantry. It's dusty inside, but Toki just blows on it to get the dirt out, coughing once when he inhales some of the particles. He grabs the cereal box and pours it on the bowl till it's filled to the brim. Toki then grabs the milk carton and pours it. At least the milk doesn't look or smells expired. It spilled a bit on the countertop, but Toki just wipes it with the hem of his shirt, leaving a wet, grime filled stain.

Toki smiles to himself as he's done preparing his breakfast. He grabs a surprisingly clean spoon nearby and heads out to the living room.

* * *

He got back just in time for another cartoon to start; this one is about a pink dog that lives with his elderly parents, and he has to protect them from some creepy chicken/alien. He sits and watches the what it could become his most favorite cartoon so far. With the cereal on his lap, he holds the spoon full of wet flakes and puts it in his eager mouth; it feels so satisfying to sense the cold milk in his dry mouth and the crunchy sweetness of the flakes. Despite the lack of food here, this is way better than Runke's bland, grainy, raisin filled cereal. He continues to eat gleefully while watching his favorite type of entertainment, milk trail out of his mouth and down to his chin, but he didn't care as he's too busy giggling at the goofy dog. 

It's a cute cartoon, macabre as well, which makes it even better. But that ugly bald guy…he reminds him of a cartoony, noisier version of his dad…

Toki slowly places his spoon back on the half-empty bowl. The thought of his parents sours his mood for a bit, turning his carefree expression into a downcasted scowl. 

“Jævel,” he whispers to himself.

Why did he got the lottery to be a son of him; the man who put him through unimaginable Hell. That includes being also unfortunate of being a child of his mor, who didn't do anything to protect him. It would have been preferable of not being born in the first place.

Toki glares at his bowl and feels a lump well up in his throat, the TV momentarily ignored. 

_Don't thinks about its… don't thinks about its... Ams happies heres, theres ams peoples who ams cares fores Toki. Runke, and Magnus cares…_

The fact that he got that far to get away from his parents, thanks to making friends, helps get rid of that painful lump and dark thoughts.

So is the pink dog making goofy, exaggerated faces.

Near the end, the old man who turned into a chicken has turned into a pile of ash.

Toki wipes some tears and lets out a chuckle, he goes back eating his breakfast.

He wishes his dad turns into a pile of ash.

* * *

It's been…many hours that has passed, Toki didn't check the time, but the sun is starting to set. Magnus said he would come back, but it's taking longer than he thought.

These past hours have just been lying on the couch, using the bathroom, leaning against the back cushion, watching endless cartoons, or any other shows that spark his interest. Since the pain is slowly subsiding, he would get up for a little exercise by walking around the room or stretching from time to time. There isn't much space to walk, particularly if there's clothes, bottles, and trash lying around.

He was curious about looking into Magnus' bedroom but decided against it; he doesn't want to cross the old man again and have him lose his trust. At some hours, he took a short nap, then wakes up to watch tv shows again.

That's the highlight of the day. He was used to having an endless amount of work dumped on him from early morning till late at night. Now that it's him doing nothing in someone else's place, it feels quite boring actually.

Toki sits back tensely on the edge of the sofa, nibbling on the nails of his index and middle finger. The gnawing feeling is growing on him; what if Magnus got beaten up like he did? What if he's…dead.

Toki shakes these thoughts out of his head. There must be something else to do? Watching TV for hours is making his eyes dry and is giving him a headache.

He scans the room and notices the guitar case.

_Of course! Hows Is coulds forgets abouts de guitars agains?_ he thought.

Toki gets up and quickly walks over to grab the case, then scurries back to the couch. He unzips the case entirely to let the guitar out from its chambers. 

He strokes the guitar for a bit, feeling the cool, tight strings…still in good enough condition.

Toki glides his fingers on the strings and gives it a pluck; the noise it makes means it's well adjusted. He plays a tune he heard from Runke's old recorder, the ghoulish metalhead would make him listen to nothing but black metal, and Toki felt in love with it. But it didn’t feel like he heard it for the first time, he would have sworn he had heard those music in his dreams before running away.

He closes his eyes as he plays. The TV is still on, though he can't hear that; he just imagines himself in the spotlight, thousands of fans cheering for him, adoring him.

He still got it, as long as he's alone in his thoughts, he plays like a real star.

…

Without warning, a low-pitched creaking from the door is heard.

The sudden noise has caused him to distort by a couple of notes. His head perks up towards the entrance door.

Like last night, Magnus quickly gets in and locks the door, looking reasonably more alert than in the morning. 

"Magnus! Youse outs so longs!" pipes Toki.

Magnus clenches his eyes for a fraction of a second at the high-pitched tone that the boy manages to produce.

"What? Are you my mom?" said Magnus, dumping the wet umbrella on the ground, "I have been out way longer than intended, got too caught with things." he then proceeds to take out his shoes and throws it away in the same manner. "But it's all fine now, I'm still alive, so quiet down."

_As long as we're here, let's pay Skeletor a visit._

Magnus glares at the TV, He-man is playing; he hasn't seen that show in years. Magnus smirks and snorts in amusement, Toki quickly looks over the TV and back to Magnus.

"How old are you?" Asks Magnus.

Toki raises an eyebrow at the sudden question.

"Ums…"

Toki ponders for a moment, eyes scanning on the floor, as if he looks like he's searching for the number somewhere on the dusty blue carpet.

"Well?" Magnus asks impatiently.

"It's…" Toki closes his head and hunch over in thought, tapping his temple with the side of his curled index finger. If only he didn't get his passport stolen. "It's…eithers."

Seconds pass with no answer, Magnus surprised eyes intensely focusing on the boy. _He can't be serious?_

"You're taking too long to answer something simple. When's your birthday?"

Toki stays silent, face flushed, and eyes now staring at nothing, like as if he forgot something valuable and just realized it months later.

"It's comings ups, ams somewhere earlies Augusts, maybes befores de tenths?"

"It's way past that, today's the fifteenth."

"Fifteeths!?" cried Toki in disbelief, almost dropping his guitar, "Buts de calenders, ams circlestes ups to de 3rds."

"What?" Magnus looks at the calendar on the wall to make out what the kid is saying. "Oh, that, I haven't bothered using it for weeks, it's way past the 3rd."

"Oh…that means I missed mines boithdays." Toki pouts. He hoped that since he escaped his parents, he could actually make the day of his birth special like what everybody does, but nope, as always, it was just another day. 

"Tough luck kiddo. So… do you know your age or not?"

"Ams eighteens nows." 

_Eighteen huh…perfect._

Magnus continues to smirk at the man…no…still a boy, he behaves nothing like a grown man.

"Poor thing, don't remember the exacts date of your birthday," Magnus said in a slightly mocking tone.

"Is nevers gets tos celebrates its," Toki said glumly, pressing his legs together, "Celebratings boithdays nots alloweds byes mines far's orders."

Magnus walks over while pulling out his sweater, revealing a grey tank top underneath, he throws the sweater on the exact spot he found earlier today. He picks up the remote and sits on the recliner; it sags slightly as he shifts his weight on it.

"What a jackass. Well, I don't celebrate it either, birthdays ain't nothing special… except if you're turning 21."

Goofy sound effects rave out of the TV. Both guys smothered by the dim blue lighting from the screen.

"Oi buddy, since you're eighteen, aren't you a little too old to be watching this?"

Toki's presses his lips together at the question and looks down on his guitar.

"Is likes its. Whys onlies childrens gets to sees its?" mumbles Toki

Magnus lets out a short laugh; it's rough and abrupt. Toki's face again becomes a slight tinge of red. It's the second day with his new friend, and already he is making a fool of himself. 

_Ams Is gonnas gets kickeds outs for this?_

"You're an adult now, time to watch shows your age."

Magnus clicks the remote to change the channels. He flicks through channels a couple of times until he stops on one. 

"Here you go, Cashtastrophe."

Toki watches at the screen in indifference; just two people sitting down, a guy standing up, and another guy inside a giant glass cylinder.

"What ams this?" asks Toki, glaring at the dullness of it.

"Desperate people humiliating themselves, it's hilarious."

This doesn't look as fun as watching cartoons. His right hand unmindfully gliding across the guitar strings. 

"Mr. Ginginsee, ready for the question? In what year did former football play Jerry Kramer had an intestinal operation that required him to wear a colostomy?" The host asks.

Magnus glance and sees that Toki is focusing on the guitar on his lap instead of the TV. Magnus' eyes turn forward to the TV. The celebrity he doesn't know nor care is taking too long to answer the question, longer than Toki answering his age.

He goes back to Toki. 

Come to think of, Toki is more entertaining to watch than Cashtastrophe.

"You've been practicing?"

Toki raises his head to meet Magnus' half-lidded but interested eyes, he smiles slightly.

"Yeps, needs to pass times, ams gettings heads sores foi watchings de screens alls days."

Magnus leans back in a more comfortable position.

"Say, if you're not going to watch the show. Why don't you play me a tune?" request Magnus.

Toki's eyebrows creased slightly. He feels something uncomfortable inside, but he can't say no to his new friend.

"Uh…yes…sures."

Toki slightly shifts the guitar, but it slides down his lap and almost falls over before Toki catches it with his trembling hands. He awkwardly puts it back in his lap, Toki sighs and holds it in a playing position; one hand holding the neck, the other resting on the pickup. 

He plays the first few notes. 

“NO! AAAAAHHHHHH!”

The moment Toki looks at the TV in startlement, the contestant in the glass tube gets shred to bloody, chunky bits from thousands of flying cash notes in a matter of seconds, the human chunks gets smaller from each slice from the paper-thin currency. 

"Herregud!" Toki cries out in shock at the unexpected bloodbath, his strumming gets distorted as he said that, and he stops immediately.

Magnus didn't even bat an eye. He simply grabs the remote and lowers the TV volume to zero.

"Don't worry about that, just keep playing."

Still lingering in shock, Toki shakes his head slightly and tries to avoid looking at the TV. He closes his eyes and plays the tune again; however, he messes up the notes at some point or another. The more he makes mistakes, the shakier and sweatier his palms get. Toki clenches his eyes, trying to pretend Magnus isn't there, but he can feel the old man's eyes drilling into him. 

It didn't work, he's messing up like yesterday, but worse.

But he continues to play and tries to pretends that he’s alone, it sounds good in some parts, but his hands feel so cold and clammy.

Three minutes of playing later, the last pull of the string was a painful loud twang. He opens his eyes, not bothering to look at Magnus.

…

"Dids… Is does goods?" he asks softly.

Magnus' eyes narrow, he assesses Toki's hands, such pathetic hands...

"What the fuck was that?"

Toki's frowns like a 5th grader who got handed a marked homework with an F stamped on it. Of course, he was expecting that question. 

"No wonder you failed the audition."

Magnus places his curled hand near his mouth and clears his throat to unleash some more criticisms.

"You play like an elderly man having a stroke! If I were passing you on the streets and watch you play like that, I wouldn't even give you a freakin rusty nickel. I would die of embarrassment if I played like that, even if I'll be the only living thing on Earth."

Toki didn't say anything and continues looking down at his good for nothing instrument. As Magnus continues his barrage of condemnation, Toki feels that same feeling within him that he had from that restroom yesterday. These cruel taunts all came instantly; each word makes his insides ache and his throat tight.

The only talent he has is playing guitar, and he can't even do that right.

"I once saw a drunkard playing his guitar while lying down pissing shit in his pants. He plays better than that!"

"I'ms…justs nervous," Toki croaks quietly, it took a lot of strain saying that, it feels like there's a spiked ball lodged inside his throat.

"You must have been tripping to think you can succeed in joining that band. They're probably laughing and making jokes about you by this very second."

Suddenly, Toki snaps. He furiously gets up, despite the lingering pain, and throws the guitar on the floor, clacking as it lands.

"IS SAIDS I'MS FUCKINGS NERVOUS!" 

…

Only the faint sound of a clock ticking nearby.

Magnus leans forward from his recliner, both hands gripping slightly on the padded arms of the sofa, staring wide-eyed and mouth slightly open at Toki's sudden outburst.

Toki breathes shakily, glaring at Magnus with wet pale eyes. He closes his eyes and gives one deep, shaky breath, and immediately open them wide in realization.

He yelled and cursed at his new friend.

_You fucked up big time._

Toki covers his mouth with his trembling right hand. He gets on his knees in front of Magnus, holding his hands together in a tight praying position. His face shows nothing but panic. 

"I-I'm sorries! I didn'ts means tos! Sorries fors cursings, ams justs beens stressed, do notskicksmesouts!"

Instead of telling him to leave his apartment, Magnus still looks down at him in puzzlement.

"Calm the fuck down, sheesh," assures Magnus.

Toki still maintains his position, but sags a little, his eyes wild looking in worry.

"That..I mean, it's alright," Magnus said, leaning forward. "Honestly, I was expecting you to whimper like a baby and take it, but this is a better alternative."

Toki slowly let go of his hands from each other and places them on the floor. Magnus smiles moderately at Toki, he likes seeing the boy on all fours…

"Sos…yous won'ts kicks Toki outs?" He asks, voice cracked and pitched.

"I was saying these things to help you improve, but if you want to join the world of musicians, you got to have thick skin. At this stage, you'll never make it into that world."

Magnus then gets off of his recliner without saying a word and walks towards his bedroom, fumbling something inside his pants pocket as he enters. Disappearing for a couple of seconds, Toki stares at the bedroom entrance in confusion. He slowly gets up from the floor.

The confusion wears off when Magnus comes back carrying his Gibson Les Paul guitar. 

"That's why you need someone like Magnus to help you get better."

Toki smiles in relief. Guess he'll be staying here for another night.


	6. Hassling choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's Dethklok been up to? 
> 
> (not much)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just because Toki is not with Dethklok doesn't mean Dethklok will be excluded in the story.
> 
> Also, thanks for all those reviews.
> 
> Enjoy! ^^

"Hmmm! Aah! Faster! Harder!"

"Ifs youinsisteds!"

Skwisgaar picks up his speed in pounding his hips at the groupie he's mounting on, doggy style. The twin size bed creaks loudly underneath them, though not as loud as the grating moans coming from the plus-sized woman. The room is almost dim, but Skwisgaar can plainly see the roundness of her ass, the rolls of her back and the dark, dishevelled hair. He holds each side of her hips firmly, enjoying how her skin is like putty to his thin, overworked hands. He's reaching towards his climax and can feel her getting close too. Her walls tightening around his cock, bringing him more welcoming friction. 

"Ah! Ah! There! Don't stop!"

Skwisgaar wishes the woman could shut up with these cliché encouragements, he prefers the meeker types. The small thought of annoyance is cut short as he feels her wet cunt spasming around him, even spraying her juices on the bedsheet. Skwisgaar comes soon after; his face scrunches up, and he bites his lips, wrapping his arms around her wide waist, rigidly lowering his upper body onto her till his hair touches her sweaty back. He let out a mixture of pants and moans in the back of his throat as he unleashes his seed into her.

His hips jerk as the sweet feeling consume him before ending in a nearly abrupt halt. When that is over, Skwisgaar slowly removes himself from the groupie, and lies on his back next to her. The thick groupie gives out a sight and a soft gracias, then collapse on the bed. She lies on her stomach; her head turned away from Skwisgaar and would probably be asleep any minute now. 

No awkward small talks, no stupid questions such as asking for his phone number, only silence, just the way he likes it.  
Skwisgaar places his hands on the back of his head, feeling dampness due to build-up of sweat in his hair, the curse of this American heat.

He emotionlessly stares at the running ceiling fan above him, the flow of cool air gives his pale, sweaty body some relief from the steamy, sex scented room. His eyes scan around the darkness, save for the moonlight seeping through the window and landing on the second set of bed that belongs to Murderface. He hopes one day, he gets a room to himself; a bright modern room, with a TV planted on the wall, and an IKEA bought memory foam bed, big enough to fill five groupies.

Minutes passed, the groupie is starting to snore. No matter how long he lays there, he couldn't close his eyes to go on a peaceful slumber, nothing to do with the snoring, it sounded quite cute, unlike Murderface's. 

Thoughts are undoubtedly a great way to keep someone awake, especially concerning thoughts. Kicking Magnus out and finding a new rhythm guitarist has become a taxing process for the band. The latter felt like a waste of time.

They'll be a one guitar band; no rhythm guitarist can keep up with him.

…Except for that kid.

That dorky Norwegian kid with the stupid hat…

From time to time, he thought back on that last contestant. Toki is his name. He played with a speed that matches his, keeping up to him like a falcon keeping up with a stallion.

Skwisgaar never played like that with anyone before. It was the most fun that he ever had.

But then, he fucked up a few notes near the end.

It was such a shame; the kid would actually have a chance. In the deepest place in his mind, he would have liked if he joined the band, but he kept his mouth shut while the other guys told him to get out.

Skwisgaar closes his eyes, a discomforting pang in his bare chest. What's this feeling he's getting? Regret?

His fingers suddenly feel tingly, he needs to move them, he needs his guitar... 

Skwisgaar sits up and looks around the room, no guitar in sight. He sighs deeply and pulls his legs out of bed. He sits on the side of the bed for a while, knees sore caused by the firmness, of the over-expired mattress. 

"Knulla denna plats," he mutters quietly to himself before getting up. He stretches his body before picking up his briefs and some grey sweatpants on the floor to cover himself. He softly opens the door and heads out, leaving the snoozing groupie alone. 

* * *

  
As expected, the guys were chilling in the living room. With the TV screen wholly destroyed by Magnus, watching anything or playing their PlayStation games is completely out of the picture. It's going to take a while until they could afford a new one. A fan next to the has-been TV is the only shred of entertainment for them, its grime-covered head moving left and right, the flow of air providing limited coolness for the sweaty band members. 

The room is equally as dark and cramped, the red bulbs they painstaking searched in numerous stores have given the place a Hellish red tinge. While it has always been a mess, Magnus had made it worse; shattered glass left and right, bits of broken instruments, ripped clothes, smeared blood, and threatening graffiti all over the walls. Yet, only a bit of the area was cleaned due to pure laziness in their part. 

Nathan sits in the middle of the stale sofa, his tree branch-like arms crossed close to his chest, glaring at the broken TV. These past weeks of searching for a new band member and chronic pain on his left shoulder have soured his mood to eighty-five percent. 

Sitting next to Nathan on the left is Murderface; the thin, scruffy bassist is vigorously stabbing at the sofa with the knife that belonged to Magnus. He took a great liking to the knife, with the right amount of sharpness that could cut through hardened boots like butter. It took a lot of bantering between Nathan and Murderface at the hospital to keep the knife.

On the right side is Pickles, who is in the middle of inhaling his homemade water bottle bong. The repeated usage has left the bottle a nice tinge of yellow. His pink-tinted eyes have a look of weariness, living in a moment where nothing matters, the best source of coping mechanism for him during these challenging times. He takes a deep inhale, then lets out the grass scented, pearly white smoke, covering the room in a light haze. 

"Hhooooeeaa" Pickles breathes out. He grabs a bottle of whiskey below him that's been snuggling between his feet and takes a long swig at it.

Nathan and Murderface glance in annoyance at Skwisgaar as he enters. Obviously, they heard loud and clear of his dirty feat behind the wall, even if the walls are covered in egg cartons. Skwisgaar just slightly curls his lips in response, everyone should know that if you have him as a housemate, expect to get used of theses noises every now and then.

"Fucking done now? Can I finally have shome fucking shleep?" said Murderface, his voice low and humourless, a tinge of jealousy in his sour chartreuse eyes. 

"Don'ts knows, mights haves seconds," Skwisgaar casually answers as he picks up his Snowhorse Explorer off the floor nearby, which was a backup one since Magnus smashed the other one.

Pickles scoot over closer to Nathan so that Skwisgaar has a spare spot on the torn sofa, he sits on the firm cushion and immediately plays his guitar to help keep his mind off that Norwegian boy. The plucking sound is heard in an equal amount of volume as the fan.

"Just sitting together in silence with nothing to watch feels fucking awkward man," Nathan said.

"Jus fahntazise some 70s horror flicks like ah doin." Pickles said optimistically as he also stares at the TV, or more like staring through the TV. His half-lidded eyes are almost looking in opposite directions. "I'm aht de…de pert wherede dood…his eyes geets er… geets ripped out of his skahl." 

"His name is Magnus, right?" Nathan asks, glancing towards Pickles, his tone sharp, and raised slightly, indicating his thirst to make that old bastard suffer. Pickles snickers quietly at the idea. "Well ah-"

"Wait, theresh schomething better." Murderface chimes in, interrupting Pickles, "How aboutch ripping hish teschticlesch out of his shcrothum and placing it where hisch eyesch have been."

"That's brutal." Nathan agrees, Murderface smirks at Nathan's approval, it's a miracle that he'd found people who share his dark nihilist attitude and sense of humour. 

Hearing Magnus' name being said has made Skwisgaar shred harder and mutter Swedish curses under his breath. Another person that he wishes to keep out of his mind. 

"What's with you, Skwisgaar?" Nathan asks, noticing how tense the Swede look.

"Justs… don'ts likes hearings dats names." Skwisgaar said, still shredding his guitar.

"Aaawwww blondie goth a trigger word? Missche him already?" Murderface said mockingly and with a grin that shows his yellow cavity-filled teeth. 

Skwisgaar immediately stops playing, glowering down his guitar, the wrinkles between his brows shows a clear indication of how he feels. Skwisgaar leans forward to sneer at Murderface.

"Shuts ups Mordaface, yous de ones who likes to kisses his ass anys chances you gets! That whyse you gots dats knives arounds!" Skwisgaar retorts.

"W-whah?" Murderface falters, pulling the knife out of the cushion, nearly standing up from the accusation, Nathan almost backs away at the sight of the knife, _almost_. 

"I'm no asschkisscher! Never wasch, never will be!" Murderface announce gratingly, staring daggers back at Skwisgaar.

"Pfft! Whatevers."

"Hey, get that fucking knife away from me, I don't know why I agreed leaving that shit around. It belongs in the trash, just like Magnus," said Nathan.

"Do you know how much thisch knive coschts! Look at the quality of this schtainless schteel! It didn't take efforth to schlice my palm," Murderface explains, holding the knife protectively against his chest.

"Then fucking sell for a new TV so we can go back playing Resident Evil 2!"

"No fucking way, if Magnusch-!"

"Cans wes shuts up ins sayings dats names alreadies, I'ms gettings sicks of hearings its!"

Seconds of silence go by.

"You know what Skwisgaar? I fucking agree. The less I hear that name, the less urge I want to crack somebody's skull." said Nathan.

"Well…" Pickles said, wanting to change the subject before another fight ensures, "leets thought of ah new nahme for ah whohecahnnahbenahmed." Pickles suggests. He placed the dirty bong on the floor, next to the whiskey and tries to think of a new name from his drug-fuelled brain. "Howahbou… goatcheese."

More silence ensues.

"I get the goat part but why cheese?" Nathan asks.

"Ah don know, my mind is ah fogged up, if my mind is clearah, den ah could come up wit bettah names?" exclaims Pickles.

"Howsh abouth… shtinky pissch-schmelling shcarecrow shcum," suggests Murderface.

"Too long," said Nathan.

Skwisgaar joins the game.

"Maybes bootleggededs Serj Tankians?"

"Er…"

"I came up with somethin bettah…goat bitch…shithead, er, dahmmydahmbas—"

"They all sucksch Picklesh!" Murderface interrupts.

"Shaht up!... ok eh…dill…dillfucker donkey dick."

Nathan sighs loudly, shuffling a bit as his ass is getting sore from sitting too long.

"Let's just refer to him as Dickface, and there's that," said Nathan, closing the case. As he moves his left shoulder, he winces slightly at the pain seeping through. "Fuck!"

"Stills hurts Natans?" Asks Skwisgaar.

"It's been two fucking weeks," Nathan grunts as he raises his shoulder again; another pain follows immediately after. He can survive through this, but it's been a main source of nuisance. He had been stuck in the hospital for days to get the fucking knife carefully pulled out, and to get the wound to close. He lost so much blood and needed stitches. He admits, it was a brutal experience, a great conversation starter for the groupies, and he got a cool scar, but he feels like he can't ever move his shoulder around like he used to. 

_I should've broken all his teeth…and his neck_. Nathan thought.

Suddenly, they hear a grating ringing sound coming from a surprisingly unbroken phone on the table nearby.

"Ah'll get it!"

Pickles tries to gets up, but being in a mixture of high and drunkenness, his wobbly knees gives out, making him crawl and scramble quickly to get towards the phone. A shard of glass pierces his left palm. In a state of feeling no pain, he ignores it. He swiftly gets up and grabs the handle, and place it against his ear.

"Hahwwo?" He answers, swaying a bit in jadedness. 

"Hello Pickles." 

"Chahrles! How…howareyer!?" asks Pickles, louder than usual, grinning a bit.

"…Do I… ah…need to say it?"

"Wait." Pickles shakes his head to clear his mind, and pinch the bridge of his nose. "Ah'm only ah little bit...intahxicake...it."

"...Well, I just came to call to check how the process in finding a new rhythm guitarist coming along? Any luck?"

Seconds of silent went by, Pickles himself wouldn't even know why he's struggling to answer. He aims his sights at his bloody left palm, taking an interest to the glass buried in his flesh.

"…Pickles?"

Pickles squeeze his eyes and shake his head.

"Err no, we're ah… we still looking."

"I thoughts we'ves hads de discussements that's this wills bes a ones guitarists bands!" Skwisgaar shouts, loud enough for Charles to hear over the phone.

"Ohhh...right, nope…no we're naht getting ahny new rhythm guitahrist. Dey all sahcks."

Pickles can hear Charles let out a long sight.

"Could I have a talk to Nathan?"

Pickles turns his head towards Nathan, his eyes squinted, his world as fuzzy as usual.

"Natan?... Charles...tahlk to yer," Pickles said.

Nathan gets up, walks towards Pickles, being careful not to move his shoulder too much, and snatches the phone out of the drummer, who's already starting to doze off.

"Err Charles…all this audition stuff is hard work…and all. And er…Skwisgaar won't stop bitching about no one playing as good as him."

Skwisgaar quirks an eyebrow at the remark. 

"So, er…fuck it. Let's just call off this search… it's too much work and er… we're tired." Nathan said.

"Are you... ah…sure about this? A rhythm guitarist is very essential for the band's—"

"We! Don't!... Need one!"

Charles could feel the anger, but unsureness of Nathan's voice.

"Just have a long think about you and the bands decisions. I got to go, I'll call again tomorrow at 12 pm sharp. Have a goodnight."

 _Beeep_.

All of their minds ponder about this stressful decision they have to make.

"Man…this is hard." Nathan said, walking towards the sofa. 

"Mneh." Pickles agrees, following Nathan.

"You know…" Murderface start, pausing in hope that everybody is paying attention. "Maybe…we really need a rthymsch guitarist."

They all stare at Murderface in confusion at the sudden change of opinion.

"None of thisch problem would have happened if we kicked him out."

Hearing that, Nathan glares at Murderface.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Seeing the bigger guy aiming his sights at him like a predator, Murderface glance to the side in worry.

"I'm just schaying..., did we really make a good choice in kicking Magnusch out?"

"Are you fucking crazy Murderface?!" Nathan shouts. Glowering at the bassist, mentally preparing to slap him.

"Lets sees," Skwisgaar pipes in "he ams a fucking crazies, scares de craps outs of us, hurts us, ams a totals creeps, ands hes stabs Natans. You wants hims fuckings backs becauses you're buddies buddies with hims? I tolds yous he ams an asskissers!"

"NO!" Murderface shouts, getting up from the couch, holding the knife in a tight grip, "Itsch just…he…" Murderface looks on the floor, unsure how to say this without sounding totally gay, "few... dat underschtandsch me."

"Yer shoold wipe thah type of thought aboot him ahs soon ahs we kicked him out." Pickles said, sobering up a bit. "He played with ahs like a fiddle, he doesn care aboot ahs. If he stahbbed Natan, then he'll do de same with de rest of ahs."

"Also…," Nathan adds, "he wrote that you're stupid on the wall, took our clothes, trashed this whole fucking apartment. And finally,… I didn't tell you this Murderface because it will break your heart but…"

Murderface's head perks up at what the final reasoning is.

"That bologna sandwich you made for him months ago…as soon as you turned your back… he threw it away without taking a bite."

Murderface's jaw drops, forehead wrinkle in despair, and eye glinting in betrayal.

"Thath! Fuckingsch! Dick!" Murderface barks, spittle rain out of his foul mouth and lands on the tarnished carpet.

"There you go, now quit being an asskisser." said Nathan.

Murderface angrily furrows his eyebrows at Nathan. He drops the knife on the floor, silently sits down, and crosses his arms.

"Schould keep my mouth schut at all time." Murderface mumbles to himself.

Magnus… the man will be buried in Skwisgaar's nightmares for God knows how long, one of the many collections of older men he wants to avoid. To cope, he goes back to lightly shredding his guitar.

"He ams fuckings slows." Skwisgaar adds, continually playing, "Couldn't keeps ups withs me, too fuckings olds.., he'll get arthisises soons..."

"True." Pickles said, casually pulling out the piece of glass off his palm and flicking it on the floor, "He ain gaht nahthing like dat kid, whaht was his name? Toby or sahmething? He's like de second Skwisgaah."

Skwisgaar stops playing, again, still looking down on his guitar, his bare chest heaving slightly.

"Yeah that kid played great." Nathan said, a slight sound of astonishment in his voice.

"He looksch like a pisschbaby with a schtupid hairdo," Murderface adds, "But he shredsch like a pro."

Hearing them all praising that kid fills Skwisgaar with annoyance and slight sorrow. "Wells, he fuckeds ups de lasts bits," his fingers slightly gliding the guitar strings, but not making a sound, "Probablies has betters lucks joining somes jackoffs bands... Sos…" Skwisgaar gets up, holding the guitar by the neck, "Theres ams nevers bes guitars players as goods as mes. We gets no rhythms guitarists, I's cans dos justs fines on mines owns."

He then walks back to his bedroom to have another round of quickie fuck with the fat groupie. He shuts the door loudly.

"Pompousch blonde baschtard," Murderface grumbles lowly.

Pickles shrugs his freckled shoulders and grabs his water bottle bong nearby for another short-term mind-numbing euphoric state.

Nathan glumly goes back sitting on the sofa, staring at the useless wrecked TV. Cashtrophe would have been playing right now. He would've enjoyed another round of watching humans getting shredded if it weren't for that prick Magnus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Knulla denna plats - Fuck this place.


End file.
